An Account of Cost and Reward
by Trickster's Bones
Summary: As of the Anti-Slavery Act of 1820, the Ministry of Magic forbid the buying and selling of humans. As of the Eradication of Dangerous Criminals Act of 1981, Death Eaters are no longer considered humans. Warnings: Time-Travel, AU, Slash SS/HP
1. In which a deal is made

**Chapter One:** In which a deal is made and the future is unset

"…and sold for 1,500 galleons to bidder number 72. Thank you sir, please go to the gate to receiver your property. Next we have item number fourteen. Bidding starts at 100 galleons. 100 galleons, thank you sir, do I hear 150? 150? Do I hear…"

The auctioneer rambled on, his voice tumbling from price to higher price, beckoning the bidders to pay more, and more, and more. Beyond the boom and jumble of the auctioneer's voice, there was a soft buzz that filled the chamber from the chatter of the bidders, reminiscent of the buzz of a swarm of flies around a particularly ripe piece of fruit.

A commotion was started in the back of the chamber, but the auctioneer prattled on, either oblivious or uncaring as raised voices rose louder, as a menacing crackle of magic filled the room. The buzz of the bidders silenced; the still before the storm. Heads turned to look at the source of the disturbance.

"You do not understand the consequences of your actions. These are human beings and that man is innocent. If you continue down this path, you will condemn an innocent man to…"

"Albus, you really must try to understand this from our point of view," the minister interjected, her face coloring from her struggle to remain composed. "These men are all dangerous criminals and the Ministry has decided that this was the best course of action. The public practically demanded it. Since this decision, public approval of the Ministry is up by nearly ten percent. And anyways, your man has proven himself to be…"

"He has proven himself to be loyal and trustworthy," Albus averred, his calm voice belied by his obdurate blue eyes.

"He has proven himself to a danger to society, and you and your people cannot be trusted with his custody. My decision on this is final. Severus Snape is to be sold with the rest of the Death Eaters and he will be under the control of the upstanding citizen who purchases him. If you continue to press this matter, I will be forced to suggest your removal from Hogwarts. You obviously do not have your priorities straight and your judgment is questionable at best."

The minister turned on her heel and walked away, slightly too hurried to be dignified, but she wished to be away from the seemingly omniscient headmaster and the oppressive weight of his eyes and magic. The minister decided that she would go to her office and go over some paperwork, maybe smoke a cigar or two and put her feet up. Then she could forget all about Albus Dumbledore and his condemning words. It was all for the best.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape stood stiffly in the corner of the holding cell; his back was against the wall and his cold, black eyes trained on the locked door. He studiously ignored the iron manacles clamped tightly around his wrists, weighing heavily on his arms and soul. A life of bad decisions had led him to this place, and, no matter how he strived for oblivion, visions of missed opportunities, could-have-beens, and never-will-bes crept unwanted into his mind as he prepared himself for death.<p>

The door slammed open and a red-robbed Auror stomped in, making an almost unbearable amount of noise, intruding on a condemned man's last moments.

The Auror cleared his throat and began to speak as though reading from an unseen and uninteresting script.

"Eh-hem. Death Eater number twenty-three, you are to follow me to the antechamber. You will then be escorted to the auction stage. If you resist, deadly force will be used. The iron cuffs about your wrists prohibit you from using magic and cannot be removed. You will stand silently on stage until you are purchased. Upon which time, you will be presented to your owner. Should you dissatisfy your master in any way, he or she is permitted by the Ministry to use deadly force. You will serve your master until such a time that you are no longer useful. Should you attempt to harm your master in any way, the bond cast upon you will kill you instantly. Follow me."

Severus strode forward with his head held high, barely sparing a glance at the Auror. He would not be stunned and dragged into the chamber like livestock up for sale. He would go under his own power or not at all.

He followed the Auror into the antechamber where he was then received by a Ministry paper-pusher who was rubbing his hands together while pacing up and down the room.

The Auror cleared his throat again, and the office worker looked up, startled eyes taking in Severus and his guard.

"Ah! Yes, yes, they're just a-a-about done wi-with the last one. H-h-he'll be up in ju-ju-just a moment," the paper-pusher stuttered out, running a disproportionately large hand through his already disheveled hair. A sound not unlike the chime of a small, glass bell rang through the antechamber, and the wooden door at the far end of the room slid open.

"Richards," a voice called from beyond the door. "It's time for the next one. Send item number twenty-three in please." Richards, for that was the name of the ministry worker, jumped like a startled rabbit as he turned to the Auror.

"Th-that'll be him then. Pl-pl-please proceed."

Before the Auror, the paper-pusher, or the voice beyond the door could address him, Severus stepped fluidly into the auction chamber, his head held high and his mind as blank and heavy as the abyss.

He was led to a slightly raised platform in the middle of the stage and the auctioneer began to rattle off in the garbled language unique to his kind.

"Item number twenty-three. Bidding starts at 100 galleons, do I hear 100 galleons?"

Severus gazed out into the crowd, his eyes half-lidded in defense against the lights glaring down at him and the hungry eyes of the audience glaring up.

A red-faced man in the third row lifted his wand, bidding 100 galleons.

"100, 100, do I hear a 200?"

"400 galleons," called out a cold-eyed man near the back.

"400, 400, can I get a 600?"

A blond-haired witch with a sneer on her face raised her wand.

"600, 600, can I get…"

"1,000 galleons," bellowed a thick man who was taking up at least two seats.

"1,000! 1,000, can I get…"

"2,000 galleons," interjected a grim-looking man leaning against the far wall. "I'll pay 2,000 galleons for the miserable bastard."

The auctioneer stood with his mouth agape for a second or two before visibly gathering himself. "That's 2,000! Can I get 2,100? 2,100? 2,000 going once, going twice, and sold to bidder number five. Thank you sir, please go to the gate to receiver your property. Next we have item number twenty-four. Bidding starts at…"

Severus was led off stage and he stumbled for a moment, the heavy weight of his future pushing down tight on his chest. An Auror in crimson robes, apathetic to the fates of those around him, led Severus towards the gate.

* * *

><p>Evan Harold Lilison. The name felt strange and bitter, even after nearly half a year of use.<p>

Harry James Potter was dead. He had disappeared five months ago in a freak-accident at the ministry. Five months ago for Harry, and nearly twenty-five years in the future for the rest of the world.

Evan Harold Lilison had risen in the past from Harry's ashes.

Evan was a freelance guard, curse-breaker, and general handyman from Australia. He had grown up in Kent, and had been shipped off to some relatives in the down-under when his parents died. Most of the files on him had been lost in a niffler incident at the ministry a few years back, and he had never bothered to re-file. Not many people knew Evan, and those who knew him, knew little about him. Evan planned to keep it that way. He could easily accept the life of the undistinguished and unmemorable.

He couldn't, however, allow Severus Snape a man who had saved his life countless times, a man who had given up his life to defeat Voldemort, and was a generally ornery, spiteful, and undeniably dependable bastard, be sold like beast for slaughter.

Evan had been gaining a bit of a name for himself around the Ministry as the go to man when you needed something taken care of _discretely_. In exchange for his skill and silence, he had a fairly decent referral system going. He also had something of an information system. Very few of the ministry workers excelled at holding their tongues. Nearly all of them were more than willing to blab about the latest office projects and scuttlebutt. Most often, the information was inconsequential little tidbits, but every so often, something big would come up. The auctioning off of the lower-level Death Eaters to the highest bidders was big. The auction was only open to those specifically invited by the Ministry, and the general public was only aware that the auction would occur, not where and when.

When Evan learned of the auction from a loose-lipped accountant, he set about making small suggestions of how he had a grudge against all Death Eaters, and if he ever got a chance to own one, well, he would show them the consequences for their actions.

Two weeks later, Evan had received an invitation to the auction from a ministry official that he had worked for a few days prior, and he had responded immediately that he would be there. He nearly emptied his admittedly sparse Gringotts accounted and flooed to the ministry a full two hours before the auction was to begin.

There had been too many young, frightened faces on the auction block; too many who had made the same decision, and for many of them, it would be a death sentence. Evan felt his stomach clench and churn. His hand tightened around the wand in his pocket.

There had been too many eager, spine-chilling stares in the audience; too many who hungered for the destruction, the demise of anyone who could be blamed, guilty or not. Evan felt a cold sweat chill his body. He bit down hard on the words threatening to spill from his mouth.

Finally, Severus Snape came up to the block, his grime-coated robes swirling defiantly around him, his eyes half closed as though he were dismissing the audience as unimportant and beneath his notice.

Evan allowed himself a small smile as he leaned against the back wall, reassured that Snape was still an irritable, impossible, _unbroken_ man.

2,000 galleons was almost all of the money that Evan had, but he felt no distress in spending it to buy Snape's freedom. He already knew, however, that the man wasn't going to make the ensuing days easy.

* * *

><p>"If you will not free him, you will at least give me the right to bid. This auction is open to all 'upstanding citizens'. You will not deny me this right." Albus's face was tight, his blue eyes infinitely angry and infinitely sad at the same time.<p>

"I wish I could Albus, but you and your colleagues cannot be trusted to keep an eye on the Death Eater as you should. I'm sorry Albus, but you are not allowed to bid, and neither are those close to you. Now if you will excuse me…" The minister began to turn away. She had tried to retreat to her office earlier, only to be cut off time and time again by Dumbledore. She took one step forwards, only to be pinned in place like a beetle pinned to a board by the weight of the raw magic crackling off of Dumbledore.

"You do not wish to do this Millicent. Severus Snape is an innocent man, and if you proceed down this path, you will lose the…"

"Mi-Mi-Minister Bagnold!" Richards shouted as he jogged down the narrow hallway. "Minister Bagnold!"

The minister took a gulp of air as the oppressive force of Dumbledore's magic finally released her. "Yes, what is it Richards?" She questioned in a slightly high pitched, pinched tone.

"Th-the auction ha-ha-has ended and w-w-we need you to sign off on s-s-some of th-the pa-pa-papers," Richards said, his eyes darting quickly between the minister and Hogwarts's headmaster, never once looking much higher than their knees.

"Ah. I must apologize, but I am needed elsewhere. If there is anything you wish to discuss, please contact the ministry through the proper routes and schedule a meeting." Millicent all but ran out of the hallway, Richards following on close on her heels.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sent up a small, hopeless prayer for Severus's safety until he could be recovered.

Gods help whoever dare harm one hair on the young man's head.

* * *

><p>Severus took in the appearance of his new 'master' with an internal sneer. He felt an odd sense of detachment from the entire situation. It seemed queer that, after surviving so many adversities, demons, and devils in his life, this unimposing man would be the one to finally kill him.<p>

The man was shorter than Severus, only coming up to about chin level. Dark brown hair with a red tint to it was pulled into a sloppy ponytail at the nape of the man's neck, and brown eyes with flecks of green stared challengingly out from behind wire-rim glasses. The man was thin, but from the way his robes hung around his frame, he was well muscled. He didn't give off a feeling of power, wealth, or status. The man was completely mundane, and for some reason, that fact unsettled Severus more than anything else he had faced that day.

The Auror leading Severus summoned a scroll bound by a light blue ribbon and began to unroll it. "Mr. –," he began, before looking up at Severus's _master_.

"Lilison. Evan Lilison," prompted the man. Severus visibly flinched at the man's first name, so close to the surname of the friend he had so recently lost forever; a reminder of all of the pain he had caused her, of what he had done.

"Right then. Mr. Lilison, this item that you have bought today is a registered Death Eater. By signing this scroll, you are taking responsibility for this man. He will be your property, and you are authorized by the Ministry to treat him as such. Should he disobey you, you are authorized to use deadly force. The iron cuffs around his wrists prevent him from using magic of any sort. Should you wish to remove the cuffs, you must tap them with your wand with your intent in mind. The cuffs are irremovable otherwise. Should you wish to re-apply the cuffs, you merely need to snap them around the item's wrists. Once you sign this scroll, the item's bond will transfer from the Ministry onto you. This bond will allow you to know where your item is at all times, and if the item attempts to harm you, the item will be killed immediately by the bond. If you have any questions, you may ask me now, or contact the Ministry at a later date. Do you wish to proceed?"

The man, Lilison, nodded, and the Auror summoned a quill.

"Before you sign, do you have any questions?"

"Should I be expecting any check-ups from the Ministry?"

"You may receive a survey, asking about your satisfaction with the product and the process, but beyond that, the Ministry will not contact you on this matter unless you contact them."

Lilison nodded and rubbed the back of his neck with an open palm. "Will the Ministry, ehm, keep _tabs _on how I use my item?"

Severus couldn't completely contain the shiver that went through him at those words.

The Auror smirked slightly and shook his head. "Once you sign the scroll, the Ministry will have no contact with your item. There will be no Ministry interference unless your item breaks Ministry law, upon which time, you may be held accountable. Other than that, you are free to use it how you will."

"I'm ready to sign," Lilison declared, the corner of his mouth turning slightly up in a way that made Severus's stomach churn.

With the scratch of a quill on paper, Severus's life was signed away.

The scroll disappeared with poof, and the Auror dismissed Severus's new master with a nod before walking back towards the chamber.

"We will be flooing to my house. Stick close to me," Lilison said, not even bothering to look Severus in the eyes.

Severus wanted to spit on the man, just to prove that he was still free. He clenched his teeth instead.

They had almost made it to the Ministry floos when a slightly balding man called out to Lilison.

"I see you got the invitation I sent you. Glad you decided to show up and even buy yourself a little present. How long do you think it'll be before you break the bloody bastard? Given what I know about you, you'll have the damn thing sobbing for death within a week, eh?" The man chortled and patted Lilison on the shoulder. "Hope you at least get your money's worth."

The man walked off and Lilison brushed off his shoulder. His eyes were hard and cold.

"Let's go," he ordered Severus. "I'd rather not be delayed again."

Severus walked as slowly as he dared, his muscles all screaming at him to run.

Evan threw a handful of floo powder into an empty fireplace and the fire turned a brilliant emerald green. He grabbed Severus's wrist as they stepped into the flames. Severus wanted to pull his arm away, to shout at the man for touching him, to wake up from the nightmare.

"Daffodil Place," Lilison commanded, and the floo whisked them away.

Severus pretended that the sick feeling pervading his body was due to the spinning of the flames and chimneys.

All too quickly, the floo spat them out onto the hearth of a dimly lit parlor. Severus landed on his feet, but was pulled to the floor by Lilison's grip on his wrist.

Lilison stood up and pulled his wand out, training it on Severus. Severus glared up at the man, staring him in the eyes, daring him to cast a curse, to do his worst.

"Put your wrists out."

Severus stood up, his wrists held closely to his sides.

"Now!" Lilison's eyes had a hard edge to them. "Please," he added as an afterthought, grimacing slightly.

Baffled, Severus held out his wrists. There would be time to test Lilison's patience later.

Lilison tapped his wand against the iron manacles and they fell to the floor with a resounding crash.

* * *

><p>Author's note: This story will be of indeterminate length and will be updated weekly on Sunday by 8:00 p.m. EST. Thank you for reading.<p> 


	2. In which answers are not always found

**Chapter Two:** In which answers are not always found and some beds are not slept in

_Lilison tapped his wand against the iron manacles and they fell to the floor with a resounding crash._

* * *

><p>"I need you to listen to me, just for a little while," Evan said, carefully watching Snape's face for any reaction, any change that would show what he might be thinking. "I'm will not harm you unless you harm me, I will not force you to do anything against your will, and I will never think of or refer to you as a posession. You will be free in this house until either I find a way to legally free you, or until the Ministry comes to their senses. Do you accept this?"<p>

Evan felt his heart pulsing in his throat as Snape remained silent and impassive. He knew he had to remain collected, had to show the man that he was capable of controlling himself and his emotions, capable on following through, but damn, the man always made him feel like a first year who had used rose thorns when he should have used nettles. Evan pressed forwards.

"I set up the guest room for your use. Feel free to explore the house, I don't want you to feel like a prisoner here," Evan explained, memories of Aunt Petunia drilling decorum into his head before Aunt Marge's visits swirling in his mind. "I'll show you to your room."

He walked out of the parlor and into the kitchen, then up the staircase, only looking behind him once to make sure that Snape was following. Evan missed a step when he saw the faint look of uncertainty and mystification on Snape's face as he rubbed his chaffed wrists. The look was quickly replaced by Snape's normal air of disinterest and disdain when he caught Evan looking at him.

At the top of the stairs, Evan turned left and pushed the pale wooden door open, remaining just outside of the room.

Inside, there was a twin bed pushed against the right wall, next to a window. A small dresser was against the opposite wall, and there was a small door leading to a closet next to it. The room was void of any personal effects, and the sheets on the bed were creased in the manner that all new, never-been-washed sheets were.

"This will be your room as long as you are staying here. If you have the door locked, I won't come in unless it's an emergency. Your bathroom is right over this way," Evan said, leading Snape just a few steps across the hall. Evans palms were warm and damp where they pressed against his pant legs. Snape had yet to say a word, and Evan's anxiety was quickly growing. "If you'd like to take a shower now, I can lend you a spare set of robes. Do you have any changes of clothes or personal items, or did the Ministry take possession of everything?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. He took a step forward and Evan could feel Snape's breath against his face. Bitter black eyes glared into Evan's eyes.

"What are you playing at?" Snape all but spat at Evan. "Do you take me for an imbecile? I have no possessions, I have no freedom. I am a slave, a _thing_ that the Ministry has delegated to be used at your discretion."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Evan objected, his entire body stiff in preparation for a fight. "I'm not planning on using you."

Severus turned on his heel, his battered cloak swirling around his ankles. He entered the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Dinner will be on the table in about two hours," Evan called out, a slight grin twisting at his lips. Things might actually work out better than he had hoped.

* * *

><p>The sick twisting in the back of Severus's mind was just apprehension. It wasn't anxiety, fear, <em>desperation<em>.

Lilison was making less sense with every word and gesture, and Severus couldn't figure out how to best play his part.

With Voldemort, he knew to play the groveling lacky who worshipped the ground his master walked upon. The Dark Lord demanded supplication and obedience. He knew from the way Voldemort's pupils would dilate when a follower kissed the hem of his robes, from the way he would settle into his seat after being praised, from the way his index finger would caress his wand after a victim was reduced to begging.

With Dumbledore, he knew to play the part of the remorseful youth who had made a foolish decision. The Headmaster appreciated those who put others before themselves and would do anything for their friends and loved ones. He knew from the way Dumbledore's eyes would twinkle when a student would help another out of a trick step, from the way he would sit up a bit straighter when an older student would set aside their books to assist a younger year with their work, from the way his fingers would twist into his beard when friends would great each other after a long separation.

The parts that Severus played were often based in reality, but his father had taught him from a young age how to pick up on the subtle clues that revealed what others wanted and expected. This skill to become whatever he needed to be had served Severus well, but he couldn't seem to decipher Lilison's cues.

The man's tense shoulders suggested unease, yet his actions suggested confidence. His constantly moving hands suggested anxiety, but his eyes were calm. His tone was constantly changing from gentle to angry, from uncertain to lively.

In short, the man was either suffering from a severe lack of sanity, or he was playing Severus for a fool.

Severus had yet to decide which option he preferred.

He slowly removed his robes and underclothes, wincing as pain spiked along his back. He folded the tattered garments carefully and set them on the small counter attached to the sink. He looked up briefly, and the mirror in front of him reflected a sunken in face attacked to an awkwardly thin, dirt and scar covered body. He turned away, pulled aside the curtain to the shower, and turned on the water, just short of scalding.

The dirt and grime fell away quickly, leaving Severus with a strangely exposed feeling. The soap smelled of citrus and the shampoo of chamomile. They both caused the welts on his back and sides to throb.

Barely five minutes later, Severus was stepping out of the shower, grabbing the only towel on the rack. He wrapped it around his waist and took a dismissive look at his ruined robes. He would walk around naked before putting the soiled garments back on. Let Lilison take that as he will. He reached for the door and pulled it open, only to see Lilison with his hand raised to knock standing on the other side. The man had a bundle of clothes in his other hand, and his mouth was open as he focused on something behind Severus.

Severus turned his head slightly to see the mirror behind him reflecting the raised scrapes and welts along his back. The soap had caused the area to appear red and inflamed. Poor living conditions and little to no care since the injuries occurred caused the area to appear infected.

Lilison shoved the clothes he had been holding into Severus's arms and ran off with a mumbled "stay here."

Severus ignored him and walked across the hall to the bedroom.

Not a minute later, Lilison came thundering up the stairs with a small pot in his hand. He paused in the doorway before walking into the room after Severus.

"Sit down on the bed with your back to me," ordered Lilison.

"And if I refuse?"

"Please?" Lilison's hands fumbled with the lid of the pot, prying it open.

The strong smell of dittany and tea-tree oil reached Severus's nose. It was the stinging of his back that compelled Severus to sit, not the halfway apologetic, halfway pleading look in Lilison's eyes. The look was no doubt affected.

"Hand me the salve," Severus commanded, his back ramrod straight.

"You won't be able to reach all of your back," Lilison countered.

"And if I refuse to let you touch me?"

"Your back is injured. The smart thing to do is let me treat it for you so that you can be back in fighting shape sooner. An injury is a weakness. Letting an injury go untreated is foolishness. You are not weak, and you are not a fool. Are you?" Lilison's eyes were alight with a challenge.

"Place your wand on the dresser first."

Severus's eyes widened slightly as Lilison obeyed and set his wand down before moving to kneel by the bed.

"Back to me," said Lilison, his mouth set into a tight line.

Severus turned slightly, showing Lilison his back while never breaking eye contact.

The salve was cold and thick against his back, and Lilison's fingers felt uncomfortably oppressive. Severus had to move, had to get away from those fingers, from touch, no one was supposed to touch him, no one was supposed to…

"Are you alright?"

Severus returned to reality with a start and leveled Lilison with his worst glare. "Of course I'm not alright you dim-witted idiot. If I were alright, I wouldn't be a slave, I wouldn't have these damned cuts on my back. If I were alright, I wouldn't have some slow imbecile asking me inane questions, and…" Severus's rant was cut short by a snort from Lilison, followed by a chuckle, then full out laughter.

"What are you laughing about you brainless, ignorant, troglodyte!"

"My name is Evan not idiot, not brainless, and not trogidite or whatever it was that you called me. I'm sorry if I insulted you, but you remind me very much of someone I used to know."

The fingers, still shaking from laughter, spread the healing salve across Severus's back.

"I couldn't care less if your name was Mary, Queen of Scots."

"You won't call me by my name then?"

Severus clenched his teeth and remained silent as the fingers passed over a particularly irritated area.

"My middle name is Harold. You could call me Harry," cajoled Lilison, "or you could call me by my last name."

"I will call you whatever I bloody well wish too." Severus's nails were digging into his thighs as the fingers pressed and pressed and pressed.

"You're much bolder when I don't have my wand."

Severus tensed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know that, right?"

"I don't know the slightest thing about you," Severus retorted.

The fingers stilled, and then left Severus's back.

"You'll just have to try to get to know me then. We're probably going to be stuck with each other until the Ministry repeals the Eradication of Dangerous Criminals Act. Dinner will be downstairs in an hour or so. If you aren't there, I'll have to come looking for you." Lilison stood up, grabbed his wand off of the dresser, and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore had a million and one concerns, and not a single solution. Since Voldemort's defeat roughly half a year ago, he had slept about three hours a night. He only remained on his feet through willpower and copious amounts of pepper-up potion.<p>

Currently, Dumbledore was seated at his desk in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, his head resting wearily in his hands. He was only one hundred years old, but on days like this one had been, he felt one hundred going on ancient.

There were guilty Death Eaters still at large, innocents in prison, dark wizards vying for the position of Dark Lord, order members who were left without anywhere to go, bills to read before they reached the Wizengamot, and the list went on. Sometimes it was all just too much.

And Severus, poor little Severus Snape, sold just a few hours earlier. Albus was against the selling of any man, but he had promised Severus that he would be safe. Albus had promised Severus that after the war ended, Severus would be free; that he would be able to finally live his life the way he wanted to. Albus had promised Severus something that the boy had never known, something that was an inherent right of any man, and Albus had failed spectacularly.

Albus picked up a glass ornament and pulled his arm back, ready to hurl it across the room, but Fawks trilled soft and low, and Albus put the ornament back down on the desk with a sigh.

"I don't know where to go from here old friend," Albus murmered, his voice barely louder than a weary whisper.

Fawks ruffled his feathers and let out a chirp before flying from his perch to the corner of the desk. He let out a whistle that started out low and climbed high and clear.

"I suppose the only direction I can go is forwards. I only hope that forwards is not a circular path."

Albus stood up and walked over to the fireplace.

"Thank you for your help Fawks. You always know what to say to get an old man moving again."

Albus threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and shouted "Ministry of Magic".

* * *

><p>The sound of Lilison's fork scraping against the plate made the hairs on the back of Severus's neck stand on end. His own fork sat untouched on the table, his hand's neatly folded in his lap.<p>

"I didn't poison it," Lilison grumbled, placing his fork down with a clatter. "Are you planning on starving yourself to death?"

"There are dozens of poisons that are colorless, odorless, and tasteless that can be prepared in an hour."

"I'm eating from the same serving dish that you are."

"Out of those poisons, there are a handful that one can become immune to by ingesting small amounts over a long period of time."

"Look Snape, if I wanted to kill you, there would be easier ways to do it than to whip up a poison and add it to the Sheppard's pie that I spent a good part of an hour making."

Severus made a show of picking up his fork before putting it down again. "You made this? Then I suppose I should be concerned about food poisoning instead."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"I assure you that I have no intention of playing the part of a jester, and furthermore…"

"It was! You made a joke!"

"I did no such thing. Do us both a favor and refrain from demonstrating your lack of intelligence any further. In your case, that would include remaining silent." Severus picked up his fork and took a small bite of his dinner, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Lilison snorted and picked up his plate, depositing it in the sink.

His wand sat on the countertop near the pantry, far out of reach.

* * *

><p>Midnight found Evan lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, sleep eluding him. Dinner had gone better than he had hoped, but the minute he picked his wand up, Snape became tense and blank. Put the wand down, Snape was his regular smarmy self, just a couple decades younger than Evan remembered him. Pick the wand up, Snape was a stone-faced golem, ready to react to the smallest perceived threat. It was nothing short of exasperating. Intellectually, Evan knew it was much too soon to expect Snape to trust him. Evan had six, almost seven years of memories that included Snape, but this younger version of the man didn't know him. Evan knew this, but it still caused his head to pound and his stomach to churn whenever Snape tensed up, as though expecting Evan to begin beating on him at any moment.<p>

It was a comfort, however, to see the snarky side of Snape. It was the only true reminder of home, his old home, that he had come across so far. Wherever the disaster at the ministry had taken him, it wasn't the linear past.

For one thing, the Death Eaters had never been auctioned off in Evan's past.

For another thing, Lilly and James Potter were still alive. Harry Potter was still the vanquisher of Voldemort, but Harry Potter had not survived the encounter.

The thought that he was no longer in his own world made Evan's heart beat just a little bit faster as adrenalin spiked through his system.

Evan was still looking for differences between this world and the one he had known, but it was a comfort to know that, whatever world he was in, he could count on Snape to be a defiant bastard who wielded his words just as well as he did a wand.

Evan blinked slowly and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. Maybe it was time that he got some rest. He scratched his chest absentmindedly and rolled onto his side. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

><p>Severus stood stiffly in the corner of his room; his back to the wall, gazing intently at the closed door. He had been too relaxed, too daring, and he was now waiting for the other shoe to drop.<p>

His eyes were heavy, and the bed offered a mighty temptation, but Severus would not give in. He would be awake and prepared when Lilison stormed into the room in the middle of the night, wand drawn and ready to do harm. Lilison had played nice all day, but just as Severus prepared to sleep, the anxieties that had built up came crashing down upon him.

There was not a single person in the world who would spend 2,000 galleons on a criminal, just to provide for them and give them comfort.

There was not a single person who would give protection and not expect repayment.

There was not a single person who would allow someone that they owned to insult them and then just laugh it off.

No, the more rational reason for Lilison's behavior was to lure Severus into thinking that he was safe; to show Severus a chance of what could exist for him and then smash it to pieces.

Severus wasn't going to fall for it.

His father had taught him all too well. He had learned not through words but through experience.

He could at least catch Lilison by surprise by being awake when the man came to destroy him. Severus didn't have a wand, but he was smart, he was resourceful, he was _desperate and backed into a corner_.

Lilison would learn not to play mind games against a master.

Severus felt his eyes drooping closed and shook himself to wake back up. It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

><p>Richards was having a very bad day. He would consider himself lucky if he could string together a simple sentence. "S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sir, I-I c-c-c-c-, i-i-it's ag-g-g-g-ain-gainst p-p-p-p…"<p>

"You can and you will give me the man's name and address."

In Richards' defense, Albus Dumbledore could be a very intimidating man. Raw magic flowed off the graying wizard in waves. Richards had never been a very brave man to begin with. His hands were trembling so badly that his shoulders and torso had joined in.

"S-s-s-s-s-s-sir, I-I-I…"

Blue eyes as hard and as cold as never-melt ice stared down unyieldingly.

"Li-li-lilison," Richards gulped. "E-e-e-e-ev-evan Li-li-li-lilison. H-h-he li-li, er, lives at D-d-d-daisy or D-d-d-d-daff-daff-daffodil or D-d-d-d-dandy-dandelion Pl-pl-pl…"

"Thank you for your assistance. You all will be hearing from me again in the future."

Richards sunk to his knees; his legs feeling like the bones had been vanished. Sweat soaked his narrow frame and dripped off of his nose. He wondered if it was too early to retire or too late to change careers.

* * *

><p>Authors Note: Thank you for reading. Please tell me what you think so far. If you want more information about the salve, check my profile.<p> 


	3. In which Albus and Minerva stop for tea

**Chapter Three: **In which Albus and Minerva stop for tea and Evan begins a new journey

Author's Note: There is some mild profanity in this chapter. See my profile for story information.

_Richards sunk to his knees; his legs feeling like the bones had been vanished. Sweat soaked his narrow frame and dripped off of his nose. He wondered if it was too early to retire or too late to change careers._

* * *

><p>The room was dark and cold, the stars outside of the window providing the only light. The fire had long since gone out and the white and gray ash sat thickly in the hearth. A few feet away, Minerva McGonagall turned over restlessly in her bed, almost asleep but not quite. A fire flared in the fire place, and Minerva sat up with a start.<p>

"Albus! Do you have any idea what time it is?" Minerva pulled her cloak closed around her nightgown as she stepped lightly across the cold stone floor to the fireplace.

"I am aware of the time Minerva, but I am afraid this simply couldn't wait. I have found where Severus is being held." Albus's blue eyes were bright from within the floo.

"So soon? I would have thought that the Ministry would be more tightlipped about the affair, unless…Albus! Should I be expecting a team of Aurors at our doors come morning?" Minerva's eyes were narrowed as she picked up her glasses from the mantle and placed them upon her nose.

"No, nothing quite so dramatic I hope. I merely had a pleasant conversation with one of the bookkeepers," alleged Albus, his blue eyes looking up towards the ceiling innocently.

"Ay, and I bet the fellow was cowering on the ground during this pleasant conversation," Minerva accused, her voice rich with a Scottish brogue as her temper rose.

Albus heaved a sigh. "What you must think of me, but on to the subject! I have gathered some information about Severus's buyer, and I believe it to be imperative that we act immediately. The man who bought Severus is called Evan Lilison, and he procured Daffodil Place just three months ago. His file at the Ministry has next to nothing in it, and most of my contacts either don't know him or haven't responded yet."

"Albus, are you sure it is wise to launch an investigation so hastily? What if this man gets wind of it and Severus is harmed?" Minerva sat down in a burgundy armchair and crossed her ankles. Her right hand was resting against her head in what Albus had long ago dubbed her 'thinking position'.

"I'm afraid Severus may already be in grave danger. An eye witness at the Ministry overheard Chivey joking with Lilison about breaking Severus in. We gain nothing by dallying in our efforts to recover him."

"Chivey…do you mean that balding fellow who somehow got a department head position a few years back? The one who spearheaded this whole auction?

"The very same."

"He always was one to bully and use others, even when he was younger, I'll never understand how such a man was sorted into Griffindor." Minerva leaned back into her chair and groaned. "Allow me to have a cup of tea and a bath. I'll be at Daffodil Place by four. Are there any wards or traps that I should be wary of?"

"Nothing that I cannot dispel. The wards around the house are mild, and the magic signature surrounding the place belongs to the previous owners. I do not believe Lilison to be a powerful wizard."

"And if Severus is being harmed?"

"We will find some way to deal with his abuser." Albus's eyes were cold and hard.

"And if his life is in danger?"

"We will remove the threat."

"The Ministry will be on Lilison's side," warned Minerva. The few lines on her face appeared deepened by the flickering flames.

"We will deal with the Ministry when the issue arises. Our first and foremost concern is the boy's safety."

"At four then?"

Albus nodded once and his head disappeared from the fire.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape awoke disoriented with a soreness in his joints and his neck twisted in an awkward position. His dominant arm was numb from a lack of circulation, and his back popped noisily as he tried to stand up. He had been determined to stay up the entire night, to be ready for the inevitability of Lilison's assault, but determination had not been enough. His body had been too weak and his mind too weary.<p>

Faint dawn light was shining through the window, and a bright, artificial yellow light shone from the crack between the door and the floor. Morning had come, and even though Severus had fallen asleep, he was still alive and unharmed.

Severus braced himself against the wall with his left hand as he shook the ache from his legs and the numbness from his right arm. He would stay alert and attentive. Lilison would not catch him unprepared.

The sound of whistling, accompanied by the clang of a pan against a stovetop drifted into the room from under the door.

Quiet as a cat, Severus opened the door to his room and slipped into the hallway. The stairs were nearly silent as he stepped down them, being careful only to step near the seams where the steps met to reduce the noise. By the seventh step, Severus could see Lilison in the kitchen, standing over the stove with a pan handle in one hand and a teacup in the other. His lips were pursed in a whistle, and bacon was just beginning to spit and spatter in the skillet. Lilison closed his eyes and took a sip from the cup.

Severus dropped soundlessly to the eighth step.

Lilison added another two slices of bacon to the pan.

Severus dropped to the ninth.

Lilison placed the cup of tea down on the counter and walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door, crouching to look at the contents.

Severus dropped to the tenth step.

"Good morning Snape. I don't suppose you would tell me how you like your eggs?"

Severus affected nonchalance and ambled down the rest of the stairs.

"Want a cup of tea?"

Severus's eyes drifted to the kitchen table where Lilison's wand lay, then shifted back to Lilison by the refrigerator. "That would be acceptable."

Lilison took a carton of eggs and a milk jug from the fridge and walked back over to the counter by the stove. From the cabinet under the stove, he procured a white mixing bowl, and from the drawer above the cabinet, he got a whisk. The tea kettle was placed on a cherry-red burner and Lilison grabbed a tea cup out from the cabinet above his head.

Severus pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and sat down, placing himself between Lilison and the wand. Lilison didn't seem to notice.

"Earl Grey, Green, or Raspberry?"

"Earl Grey." Severus drummed his fingers on the table top.

"Scrambled, sunny-side up, or over medium?"

"Over medium." Severus shifted slightly in the chair. Surely Lilison was taking this pretense of compassion and camaraderie a bit far…

Lilison turned a few pieces of bacon over with a fork and placed some on a plate near the stove top before adding an egg to the pan.

"Did you sleep well?"

Severus fixed Lilison with a level glare. If Lilison thought that he could fool Severus with this charade, he operating under a sever misconception.

The kettle began to whistle, and Lilison added the hot water and a tea bag to the empty cup on the counter.

"Milk or sugar?"

"Milk," Severus replied dryly.

Lilison fixed the cup of tea and set it on the table next to Severus's elbow before going back to the stove. He slid the egg from the pan onto a plate and added a few pieces of crisp bacon before walking back over to the table and setting the food next to the cup of tea.

Lilison moved back over to the stove and placed another egg in the pan.

Severus took a hesitant sip from the tea cup. The smell, taste, and consistency were all correct for Earl Grey.

"If you're still thinking that I'm going to poison you, I'll have you know that I've always been pants at potions."

"All the more reason to be cautious. Your incompetence alone could effectively poison someone. Most poisons are not overly challenging to make; it is the cures that are demanding. I am also fairly certain that you are capable of visiting an apothecary and procuring a pesticide or some lesser toxin, or is this concept too complicated for your puerile brain?"

"Too much trouble. I'll just stick to annoying you to death." There was a faint smile on Lilison's face.

Severus chose not to respond, taking a bite out of a piece of bacon instead.

Lilison turned off the stove and placed the egg and the rest of the bacon on a plate before joining Severus at the table. Severus watched Lilison out of the corner of his eye as they both ate.

Lilison kept an arm wrapped slightly around his plate, and his shoulders were slightly hunched. He ate quickly with a singular focus. Lilison had obviously gone hungry at some point in his life. Severus's eyes flickered to Lilison's face briefly and he noticed a slight patch discoloration along his forehead, close to the hairline, as well as a small scar above his right eyebrow. His eyes were a strange mix of brown and green that looked unnatural. Severus took in this information quickly and efficiently.

Little by little, he would figure Lilison out. He would stay at least one step ahead of the strange man.

* * *

><p>After cleaning up the remnants of breakfast, Evan decided to check on the small garden he had started a couple of months ago. He had received no new job offers for the week and so he had some time to relax and get Severus settled in. Money was a bit tight, but if push came to shove, Evan knew he could get some work from Gringotts as a high risk curse breaker. The job was dangerous, but there was always an opening.<p>

He took a deep breath of crisp fresh air and promptly broke into a sneezing fit from the lungful of pollen that he had just ingested.

Out of the corner of his eye, Evan saw a small shape creep behind a tree to his left. He took a few steps forward, and the shadow followed him, slinking from tree trunk to tree trunk with a determined grace. Evan raised his eyebrow slightly. He hadn't expected them to show up for another couple of days at least.

Once he reached the tiny plot of overturned earth in the back yard, Evan discretely summoned his wand from the holster on his shoulder. The shadow ducked behind the rubbish bin. Evan grabbed the watering can from its hook and set about drenching his garden. The shadow peered around the bin. A tabby cat's face with markings similar to the shape of spectacles became visible. Evan smirked before activating the enchantment that had been placed on the rubbish bin.

Mad-Eye would have been proud.

The bin flipped into the air with a bang, rubbish ricocheting off of the side of the house. The cat yowled and tried to run, but its progress was halted as the bin fell upside-down on top of it. The anti-apparition wards sprung up around the property, and the Evan transfigured the bin into a cat crate.

"If you wanted to come over for a visit, there are more polite ways of going about it. Sneaking onto someone's property in your animagus form is not considered proper decorum by most people," Evan informed the irate tabby. "Is your owner somewhere around here?"

Evan was slightly surprised when Albus Dumbledore stepped out from behind one of the trees, his wand trained on Evan.

"No need for hostilities." Evan raised his hands in the universal sign for peace, his wand already back in the holster. "Would the two of you like to come in for a cup of tea?"

* * *

><p>Minerva uncrossed her ankles and then crossed them again. She picked up the teacup and then placed it back down on the saucer without taking a sip. She sensed the anxious energy building up in the room, and it was enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Finally, Albus finally broke the distressing silence.<p>

"Severus, how have you been doing these past few days?" Albus's tone was light, but his eyes were solemn.

"As well as could be expected Headmaster." Severus looked well enough. He was clean and wearing new robes. He had a half-starved look about him, but that wasn't unusual. His eyes were a flat black, but every so often, a small spark of life would appear. He seemed unharmed, but seeming and being were two very different things.

Minerva leaned forwards slightly. "Is there anything that you need, anything that we can do?"

Severus remained silent as Lilison walked into the living room with a plate of biscuits balanced on his arm.

Minerva felt the residual urge to hiss and scratch at the man. If she had still been in her animagus form, she would have taken a chunk out of his arm. Instead, she settled for looking down her nose at him. Cats knew how to hold grudges, and the cat carrier incident was a grudge that Minerva was willing to hold.

Lilison set the tray down on the coffee table and took a seat in the chair across from the couch where Albus was seated. Minerva kept her wand tightly clenched in her had, just in case. Lilison had already proved himself more skilled then they had expected.

Albus took a long sip from the teacup. Minerva fought the urge to fidget.

"I will get right to the point. Would you be willing to sell Severus's contract to us? We have the means to pay you twice what you originally paid for him," Albus said, his eyes locked on Lilison.

"I can't do that." Lilison looked down at the teacup in his hands. His fingers played around the rim of the cup. "I could sell him to you, but the Ministry would reclaim him within the week and sell him to someone else, someone worse. The Ministry would not be content to leave Snape in your control."

"You have considered this?"

"I was at the auction. I knew that you would most likely come for him. You caused quite a commotion in the auction chamber." A faint smile played across Lilison's face.

"If you will not sell, perhaps we could work out some other deal," Minerva suggested.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Perhaps a monthly stipend for Severus's needs and continued well-being," said Minerva, her eyes keenly picking up on the widening of Lilison's eyes. She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and Albus picked up on his cue.

"While the two of you discuss this, could Severus join me in the kitchen for a quick chat?" Albus stood up slowly as he spoke.

Lilison turned to look toward Severus who inclined his head the slightest amount. "If Snape is willing."

Severus stood up and both he and Albus made their way to the kitchen.

Minerva focused her attention back on Lilison. "We have looked into your bank statements. You are low in funds, and we can help you with that. You only recently purchased this house, and the extra debt of 2,000 galleons is no small fee."

"The house was cheap. The owners were practically giving it to me after I released them from the containment curse that had been cast on the place."

"Still, for one with so _erratic_ a work field, 2,000 galleons is no small fee. If you undertake a simple pledge, we can assure that finances are not a source of concern for you."

"Bribery then, for Snape's safety."

Minerva ignored the slight. "We can also offer you fortification from those who may wish to get at Severus. He did make a few enemies during the war."

"And now you've moved on to blackmail. Not very Griffindor of you Ms. McGonagall."

"Listen to me Lilison, Albus Dumbledore was the only man that You-Know-Who feared. You do not want him as your enemy. We are offering you an opportunity, and…"

"Listen to me Madam McGonagall, and listen well. I think you will like what you hear."

* * *

><p>Severus was beyond irate; he was fuming. He was not, however, disappointed. How could he be disappointed when he expected nothing to begin with? Minerva and Albus, McGonagall and Dumbledore were the same as any other people. Of course they would treat him as an object, a thing to be bought and sold just as the rest of the world did. Severus followed Dumbledore into the kitchen quietly, but he refused to look at him.<p>

"Severus, Severus my boy, please tell me that you are unharmed." Dumbledore's voice was wavering with feeling, but Severus didn't look at his face to confirm the emotions he heard.

"I have not been damaged further." If he was going to be treated as an object, he would respond in the terms of one.

"Lilison has not injured you, has not touched you in any way?"

"He has done me less harm than anyone else I have encountered lately," Severus spat, spite finding its way into his voice.

"I am sorry. I have failed you far too many times."

Severus allowed himself a quick glance at the Headmaster, and felt his stomach drop. He had never seen the man look so ancient and drained.

"You have done less harm than most," Severus allowed.

"And yet I have still harmed you." Dumbledore had dark circles under his eyes, and his hands were shaking slightly; a side effect from fatigue.

Severus curled his hand into a fist, ragged nails digging into his palm. "It was my own weakness that caused the damage, not your actions."

"Hope is not a weakness my boy."

"Hope is a fool's fancy. Absolutely useless."

"What is a life without a little foolishness?"

"One that won't end in disappointment and folly."

"And one devoid of much joy."

"I think you should leave." Severus's head ached, and his nails were close to drawing blood from his palm.

"Severus…"

"LEAVE!"

"You are safe here?"

"Safer than I am with you!"

Dumbledore turned away from Severus and left the kitchen without another word. Severus sunk into one of the kitchen chairs, all of his energy and anger leaving him. Severus vainly wished that the other pointless emotions would leave him as well.

* * *

><p>Evan had cringed when he heard the raised voices from the kitchen. Professor McGonagall had also looked suitably uncomfortable. Shouting from the kitchen aside, their talk had gone better than Evan had dared to hope, and he bid Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall goodbye. McGonagall was still glowering slightly, and Dumbledore had a despondent air about him, but Evan had hope for the future.<p>

The minute the front door closed behind them, Evan went to check on Snape.

He was slumped over in a chair, his clumped black hair hanging limply in front of his face, hiding his eyes from view. His hands were closed so tightly that his knuckles were a bleached white against his yellowed skin.

Evan walked past Snape without a word, and grabbed two glasses from the cabinet. From another cabinet he procured a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

He took a seat next to Snape and set the glasses down before opening the bottle and pouring a bit of the strong alcohol into both.

Snape grabbed one of the glasses and downed it.

"Not checking the whiskey for poison?"

"Shut up and pour."

Evan refilled Snape's glass."Write him."

"What?" Snape's tone was sharp.

"Dumbledore. You're upset and your temper got the better of you. Take some time to collect yourself and write him a letter. Invite him over for a cup of tea or a chess game. Don't give yourself another thing to regret."

"What do you know about any of this?" Snape's eyes were bloodshot when he looked up, and his hands were unsteady. "You have no part in this and you know nothing about me."

"I'm trying to help you."

"I didn't request for any help. I don't require any."

"Well I'm helping you anyways! I'm just trying to stop you from making any decisions that you're going to regret!" Evan's tone was raised and the calm was slipping from his eyes.

"My life is my own, my decisions are my own! I have had enough of playing the puppet, enough of surviving by bending to over to others. I don't need your help," Snape shouted, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Yes you do need my help! Do you want to die? Do you want to be miserable and alone until you die, hated? I can arrange that for you," Evan shouted back, slamming an open hand down on the table, making the glasses rattle.

"If you are going to kill me, just do it! Come on you fucking bastard! I've had enough!" Snape stood up, shouting. His face was red and his chest was heaving. His chair lay upturned on the floor and he towered over Evan.

Evan took a deep breath and let it all out in a huff. Anger was clouding his mind, but years of dealing with Snape lent him some control. He stood up and walked around Snape to the door. "When you're feeling up to it, I'll get you some parchment and a quill. Write Dumbledore. Do something that might actually make you feel good about yourself for once, or are you too afraid that he'll turn you down?"

Evan walked through the doorway and he heard the crash of glass against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Hopefully Snape would be better-off when all was said and done. He might want Evan dead, but what else was new?

* * *

><p>Albus left Lilison's house with a burdened heart. Severus's words had been spoken in anger, but Albus had heard the truth behind them and the experience had been painful. "Minerva, please tell me that your dealings with Lilison were more successful than mine with Severus."<p>

Minerva's lips were pursed and her eyebrows were pulled together in contemplation. "I don't know what to tell you Albus. I don't understand it yet myself. Lilison refused the settlement."

Albus looked up, worry overcoming his melancholy momentarily as his heart rate sped up uncomfortably. "He's not planning on…"

"No! No. Nothing like that Albus. He said that he wasn't going to harm Severus. He said that he 'couldn't accept payment for what he was going to do anyways' and that if we really wanted to 'throw money around' to give it to Severus."

"As much as I believe that everyone has good within them," Albus began.

"This is just too unbelievable," Minerva finished.

"We will continue to watch Severus and Lilison, but I'm afraid that Severus is unlikely to accept our help."

Minerva nodded. "I will try to find some surveillance charms. Filius might know something."

* * *

><p>Nearly an hour after his outburst, Severus finally left the kitchen and walked up stairs to the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. On the nightstand were a quill and a piece of parchment. Severus sat down on the bed and picked up the quill and twirled it between his fingers.<p>

He hadn't lost his temper like that in years, not since his temper had lost him his only friend.

Severus felt hollow.

He pressed the quill down on the parchment and sat for a while, not knowing where to go from there. Eventually, the quill began to move across the page. The letter was only five words long, but it would have to do. Severus had nothing left to give.


	4. In which purposes are found

**Chapter Four: **In which purposes are found and beliefs are unfounded

_He pressed the quill down on the parchment. The letter was only five words long, but it would have to do. Severus had nothing left to give._

* * *

><p>Evan wondered if his words had been too much too soon. This Snape was younger than the one he had known; younger, more insecure, and more volatile.<p>

He had waited to hear Snape's footsteps up the stairs and the subsequent closing and locking of the door before Evan left his room. He didn't want to confront Snape again so soon after the altercation. Evan didn't know how long he or Snape could hold their tempers before a shouting match turned into a physical affair. Snape may not have access to his magic, but Evan was willing to bet that he knew how to throw a punch.

Evan went downstairs, only hesitating slightly as he passed by Snape's bedroom door.

The kitchen had seen better days.

Shattered glass littered the floor, and a small puddle of Firewhiskey had begun to burn a hold through the wooden floor. The puddle was smoking slightly and Evan hastily summoned a broom and dustpan from the laundry room right down the hall.

He was on his hands and knees, flipping through Mrs. Heather's Housekeeping Charms, looking for the proper spell to fix the floor when a rather agitated looking owl flew into the sliding glass door with a resounding thud.

The bird slid to the ground and Evan slid the door open.

The letter attached to the bird's leg was a quick missive from a worried witch whose house had been hexed. She wanted help immediately and didn't care about the cost. She was Evan's favorite type of customer.

The bird was back on its feet after a few sips of water and a bit of crumbled bread, and Evan sent it off with a response, assuring the anxious homeowner that he would visit bright and early the next day. Evan took a look at the clock on the wall.

There was much to be done before tomorrow, and it was almost lunch time.

* * *

><p>Severus sat on the floor, leaning against the bed with his eyes closed, waiting. Sure enough, there was the sound of the stairs creaking as Lilison ascended. Seconds later, Severus could see Lilison's socked feet from underneath the door and there was a knock at the door.<p>

"Lunch is downstairs if you're hungry."

The feet from beyond the door disappeared, and the stairs creaked out their distress as Lilison returned to the kitchen.

Severus's stomach let its discontent be known with a raucous gurgle. He pushed himself up from the floor, cleared his mind as best he could, and unlocked the door.

Lilison was at the kitchen table, writing a list of some sort, and he didn't look up when Severus entered. There were cold cuts and cheese on the counter, as well as Lilison's wand.

"Fix yourself whatever you'd like. Tea's in the cabinet."

There was a discolored spot on the floor that hadn't been there earlier. Severus walked around the spot and pulled together a small helping of sliced turkey and Muenster.

"I apologize for losing my temper earlier," said Lilison, his words clear and loud.

Severus nearly dropped his plate, but Lilison didn't notice, too preoccupied with writing.

"I'm going to Diagon Alley after lunch. Is there anything you need?" Lilison's voice was flat and devoid of its usual energy.

"Are you not angry? I was the one who yelled at you. Do you not desire retribution? It is your right," Severus goaded. He needed to know Lilison's limits, needed to know that this man had limits. This uncertainty, not knowing when Lilison would snap or what would happen when he did was unbearable.

"Do you want me to hit you? To yell at you? To force you to the ground? To curse you until death would be mercy? I don't see the point. I don't get off on causing other's pain. I don't enjoy torture, and despite your tendency to insult me, I don't want you dead." Lilison's eyes met Severus's, and they held genuine honesty to them; an honesty that was impossible to fake. Either Lilison was telling the truth at this moment, or he was an unparalleled actor.

Severus still didn't trust the man, but perhaps he could relax just the smallest amount. "You must be one of the most irrational idiots to have ever walked the planet. You do realize that the Ministry sold the Death Eaters with the intent that they would be abused, do you not? You are a fool."

"Instead of calling me a fool, you could call me by my name."

"I'd prefer not to." Severus's long fingers shredded a piece of turkey. "I do not care for the name Evan," he lied, his chest aching slightly as he said the name.

"Call me Harry then. Anything is better than being called fool or idiot all of the time."

"I require a set of robes."

"What?" The look of bafflement on Lilison's face was amusing.

"From Diagon Alley. You stated earlier that you were going."

"Oh! Right. Anything else?"

"That is sufficient." Severus placed his now empty plate in the sink.

"I'll be back by supper time. Will you be alright here?"

Severus snorted. "I am a grown man. While you might have trouble taking care of yourself, I assure you that I am capable of looking after myself."

* * *

><p>Evan stumbled out of the floo, almost knocking a rather rotund witch on her rear.<p>

"I'm so sorry! Never really got the hang of those things you know!"

He quickly backed away and left the Leaky Cauldron, making his way to the brick entrance to Diagon Alley. He tapped the proper brick three times, and the wall opened to the colorful cobblestone streets that made up the heart of Wizarding London.

Not much was different from Evan's original time, but then again, the Wizarding World was highly resistant to change. They had been using quills for how many centuries now?

Evan walked with a single minded focus, ignoring the shouts from different vendors, the jeers of unsatisfied customers, and the screams of ill-tempered children. He had plenty of ground to cover in just a few hours. His first stop was to Madam Malkin's to place an order for Snape's robes.

"How tall?" The clerk looked as though she would rather be burnt at the stake than assist him.

"Erm, about a head taller than me."

The clerk glared and pulled out a clipboard. "Fill this out to the best of your ability."

The form contained questions ranging from normal to bizarre. Honesty, what did it matter if the person had a fondness for chess over checkers? Half of the form was still empty when Evan handed it back to the clerk.

"Come back in an hour. The robes will be ready by then."

Evan left the store and blinked rapidly, half blinded by the sunlight. He made his way to the apothecary next. He visited Flourish and Blott's and Eeylope's Owl Emporium before heading over to Fortescue's for a quick treat. He stumbled over a small hole in the road and ran into a slender witch, making her drop the ice cream she had been holding down the front of her green robes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Evan looked up from the stain on her robes to meet the witch's eyes. His breath caught in his throat.

"It's alright. A quick spell will clean that right up." The witch smiled, her green eyes soft and somewhat sad. Her hair was a vibrant shade of red that Evan had only seen in pictures.

"Lily, is everything alright?" A wizard in black robes walked over to the green-eyed witch, wrapping his arm around her waist. His black hair was in disarray and his eyes also held sadness.

"Everything's fine James. We just had a small accident."

Evan struggled to find his voice. "I-I really am sorry. My name is Evan Lilison. If that stain doesn't come out of your robes, I would be more than happy to replace them." It was foolish, but Evan would use any excuse to contact the two people whom he had only dreamed of talking to, any excuse to see the people that he only recognized from photographs. He had known that they were alive in this time, but seeing them standing infront of him was wonderful and heart breaking all at the same time. They had no idea who he was.

"It's fine. I hope you have a good day." The couple walked off, leaving Evan rooted to the road.

Evan forwent getting anything to snack on. All he wanted to do was to get back home as soon as possible. He picked up the robes and stumbled all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

><p>"For you."<p>

Severus Snape stared blankly at the bags in Lilison's hands. "I required a change of robes, not a new wardrobe," he said wryly.

"Until the Ministry releases your belongings, you need a few sets of robes. Unless, of course, you would prefer to walk around naked." Lilison had an annoying smirk on his face.

Severus sneered and grabbed the bags from Lilison's hands, taking care not to touch him in the process. There were three bags, all filled to the brim yet feather light, most likely due to a charm placed on them, all stamped with the Malkin's logo. "I am not able to reimburse you for these."

"It's not a problem. Consider them a gift, compensation for the mess that you've been dragged through so far. I've also purchased an owl for the household. He should be sent over sometime this afternoon." Lilison's eyes were bright and a bit vacant. "I'll be in the basement for a bit."

Lilison wandered off in daze, and Severus retreated to the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

He took the robes out of the bag one at a time, running his hands gently along the soft, new fabric. He had never owned a pair of new robes before. The robes were soft and clean. There was no lingering scent of sweat, alcohol, or potions. There were no stains, tears, snags, or discolorations. Severus could feel the thrum of the freshly placed protection charms clinging to the robes underneath his searching fingertips.

There were three sets of standard black robes, similar to what Severus regularly wore, but superior to anything he had previously owned. There were two sets of dress robes, one black, the other charcoal grey. In the third bag was a specialized set of robes, made out of tebo hair to protect the wearer from harm, as well as a set of gloves. If he were still able to make potions, this robe set would have been superlative. As things were, it was more of a slap in the face.

Severus hung the robes up in the previously unoccupied closet and closed the door, putting them out of sight and out of mind for the time being.

The kitchen was empty when he went downstairs sometime later, but there were unmarked potion vials that hadn't been there earlier. Severus looked around discretely, his eyes carefully scanning the area without discernable movement. Seeing no one around, he picked up one of the vials. They were all of the same dark golden color and had low viscosity. He uncorked the vial and gently wafted the scent towards his nose. He smelled salt, bayberry, eyebright, walnut, and fenugreek.

It wasn't a poison, but Lilison didn't seem the type to purchase superficial cosmetic potions. The only type of potion that could be created with that particular blend of ingredients would be one that affected the eye color. With the addition of walnut, the color change would be brown or black depending on whether the hulls or the husks had been used.

Severus placed the vial back in its original position on the table just as the door to the basement opened.

Lilison ambled into the kitchen, his eyes widening in surprise at seeing Severus already standing there.

"Are you hungry? I can get you some biscuits if you want something to eat."

"I am capable of finding food if I need it. I see you took my advice to visit the apothecary," Severus said, gesturing to the potions on the table.

Lilison stammered for a moment, the tops of his ears turning slightly red. "It's not toxic or anything, it's just something to help with my eyes."

"I didn't take you as one to be concerned with cosmetics. Not satisfied with your original eye color?"

Lilison's entire face turned red. "My eye color reminded me too much of the past," he grumbled, not quite meeting Severus's eyes.

Severus narrowed his eyes. Lilison was quickly adding new mysteries to his already unusual personality.

"Wait a minute," said Lilison, his eyes suddenly boring a hole into Severus. "I didn't tell you it changed the color of my eyes. I just told you that it was to help with my eyes. How did you know what the potion did?"

"Any bumbling idiot who knew something about potions would be able to tell. The fact that you cannot distinguish the differences between potions only supports the fact that you are unskilled and inept. Potion making is an art, and if you are going to make use of it, you should at least know the use of rather common ingredients. The apothecary could easily give you a placebo in place of the potion that you requested."

"You really like potions, don't you?"

Severus glowered at the ignoramus asking him asinine questions. "I was the youngest Potion's Master in over a century until the Ministry robbed me of that position. Yes I _like_ potions." Severus could almost taste the venom in his own voice.

Lilison seemed unaffected.

"Do you want a career in potion making?"

"What I want is irrelevant. The Ministry would not permit me within a hundred meters of a potions lab unless my work was benefiting them in some way."

"I didn't ask what the Ministry wanted," said Lilison.

"Are you so keen on proving yourself an imbecile? The Ministry has made it so that I am no longer a human being. I will never be allowed what I want you bloody fool!"

"I would like to reiterate the fact that my name is not idiot, it is not imbecile, and it is certainly not fool."

"Fine _master_."

"Harry. My name is Harry you stubborn bastard! And if you would take the time to calm down and thing rationally, you would see that I am not your enemy. You are not my slave, and you are allowed to have wants," Lilison shouted, his eyes filled with fire. "If you want to make potions, you can make potions. I won't stop you. In fact, I'll even help you!"

"What?" Severus could not keep the incredulity from seeping into his voice.

"You want to make potions, right? That's what you enjoy, right? So tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you. Allowing that you don't attempt to kill me, I'll provide you with whatever you require for a business. Any money you earn from it will be yours, and the Ministry never has to know a thing. You don't need a wand to make most potions, correct?"

"You really are an idiot."

"So you do need a wand?"

"No you bloody incompetent. You don't need a wand for most potions, just a magical core. What I am referring to is the fact that you're willing to allow a Death Eater access to an easy way to incapacitate or kill you. What could you possibly do if I slipped barbiturates into your food?"

"But you wouldn't," Lilison said with absolute certainty. "Not unless you had to."

"How could you know that? I could have you under my control in seconds and no one would be the wiser. Control is a powerful temptation."

"I'll have a lab ready for you by the end of the week. I'll need a list of the things you'll require for it by tomorrow." Lilison grabbed the color-changing potions from the table and left the kitchen. Severus retreated to his room to come up with a comprehensive list on the off chance that Lilison honored his promise.

An owl appeared at the window and Severus moved to let it in.

"He won't actually follow through," Severus told himself. "No one could possibly be that naive. You really are an idiot, _Harry_."

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his study, attempting to plan for the next school year. His mind kept wandering, settling heavily on everything that had gone wrong in the past few years; everything that he had done wrong. Good intentions never worked the way they should.<p>

With a heavy sigh, Albus took his glasses off, placed them on the desk, and closed his eyes. Sleep was a comfort that he would be denied for a while yet, but that didn't stop him from seeking an escape from the world, an escape he felt he didn't deserve. The Ministry seemed content to make sure that no one got what they deserved.

Fawkes let out a soft trill from his perch, alerting Albus to the fact that there was an owl trying to get in through the window. Albus waved his hand wearily and the window opened to admit the bird. It landed with a thump upon his desk before proudly sticking out its leg in his face.

There was just a small scrap of parchment tied around the owl's leg, and very few words on that parchment, but it was enough to make Albus's heart leap in his chest.

In a familiar spidery script, the words "Tea, next Saturday at four?" and a slanted signature belonging to Severus Snape made the note a priceless gift to Albus.

* * *

><p>Author's note: I appologize for not replying to last week's reviewers, but my computer is currently fighting with me. I'm working on transfering my files to a new computer, so things should be back to normal this week. Thank you for reading.<p> 


	5. In which Evan does a job

**Chapter Five:** In which Evan does a job and the location of darkness is murky at best

_In a familiar spidery script, the words "Tea, next Saturday at four?" and a slanted signature belonging to Severus Snape made the note a priceless gift to Albus._

* * *

><p>The sun rose far too early in the morning, and Evan wanted nothing better than to pull the blinds down and sleep. He let out a groan and kicked the covers off, willing his body to rise and prepare for the day. He had a job to complete, one that would hopefully pay well.<p>

He took a quick shower, barely taking the time to even rinse the suds from his hair before drying off and dressing. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times and pulled the longer strands into a ponytail.

Snape was already sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea by the time Evan arrived downstairs.

"I have a job to do today. Will you be all right staying here by yourself? The pantry is fully stocked and the floo is open in case of an emergency."

"I assure you that I am quite capable of taking care of myself," Snape sniped before going back to drinking his tea.

Evan grabbed a couple of snack bars from the pantry and shoved them in his pockets before heading over to the fireplace. He threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and carefully pronounced the address the customer had written in her letter.

* * *

><p>Severus finished his tea and placed the empty cup in the sink. He had just placed the kettle back on the stove, intent on making another cup of tea when the owl he had sent out the day before appeared, pecking at the back door. Severus opened the door briskly and took the letter from the owl's leg. He took the letter to the table and dropped it as though it were burning his hands. He would open it after he had a bit to eat.<p>

Severus returned to the kettle, reaching to turn on the stove and noticing that his fingers were shaking. He damned his cowardice and emptied his mind.

He returned to the table with his second cup of tea. The letter lay face down innocuously.

An hour later, he was on his sixth cup of tea and the letter was still on the table unopened.

Severus picked up the letter and turned it over in his hands. He had no reason to hesitate, and yet he was faltering and delaying anyway he could, digging his heels in like a tenacious hippogriff. Better to open the letter and face the disappointment all at once like a severing hex to the arm. Long, pale fingers worked their way under the flap and broke the wax seal, opening the letter. Somehow, a five word letter invitation had warranted a full page response.

_"Professor Severus Snape," _the letter began.

"_It would be a boon to have tea with you next Saturday. I will be there at four o'clock promptly._

_I would like to apologize, but I do not think my words are nearly enough. All I have at the moment seem to be empty words. We are doing everything in our power to reverse what the ministry has done. We are doing everything in our power to free you. This means little as we have failed you so many times before, but if you are ever in need of help, know that you are not alone; we are there for you._

_Minerva would like to mention that your office remains untouched as the Ministry officials were denied admittance to your private chambers by the castle. The rooms are still yours and are open for your use should you every desire to return to us._

_I have a great many matters on which I would like to speak with you about. Unfortunately, many of them are much too sensitive to write about in a letter that may fall prey to wandering eyes. Perhaps you could have tea here at Hogwarts? Poppy misses you something dreadful, and could use your help with a few pet projects of hers._

_I do suppose you have better things to do with your time than read an old man's ramblings. I hope someday you may be able to forgive me and find someone whom you can trust unconditionally._

_Forever hopeful,_

_Albus"_

Severus placed the letter down on the table and got up to make another cup of tea. He found himself wishing that Lilison was around so that he had someone to berate, someone to take his mind off of everything that was going on outside of the small, isolated house.

* * *

><p>Mimsy Minster paced back and forth in front of her fireplace, stumbling over tilting floorboards and rugs that hadn't been there moments before. She ducked as a book went sailing towards her head. The man she had called in to help her had stated in his letter that he would arrive early in the morning, but some people got up at noon and considered <em>that <em>to be early. Mimsy hoped he would arrive soon. She ducked and dodged as another book went flying at her. There was an air to her movements that suggested that she had gone through them all many times before. The fire flashed green, and a good-looking young man tumbled out. Mimsy let out a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"Mr. Lilison, right? Thank you for coming so quickly, but it really is a dreadful problem, and I simply don't know what to do. I've been out of my mind with frustration and I swear this house is trying to kill me. Why, I was pushed down the stairs just this morning, and my knee is bruising something awful," Mimsy said, her mouth going a mile a minute as it often did when she was feeling stressed. Her girlfriends always told her to slow down, but it was like telling a smoker to just quit cold turkey.

Mr. Lilison brushed the soot off of his robes, and Mimsy took the time to wonder whether he was married or not. There wasn't a ring on his finger, but some couples didn't hold with such traditions. He cleared his throat, and Mimsy looked up to meet his eyes, blushing from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Her previous husband had thought it was endearing; Mimsy certainly hoped so.

"Mrs. Minster, I would appreciate if you could explain to me precisely what has been going on in your house over these past few days. Please don't leave anything out. Even the smallest detail could tell us what's going wrong."

"Oh! None of that Mrs. nonsense! I'm not married, or rather, I'm a widow. My husband died a few months ago. This is his house actually. We had been planning on moving into it just before he died. It's been in his family for decades. Isn't it just darling? Are you married Evan? Can I call you Evan?" Mimsy properly simpered and preened.

"Ms. Minster, I would appreciate it if we focused on the problem at hand."

Mimsy stuck her lower lip out just the slightest bit and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Evan was too stiff. He needed to loosen up a bit. Never the less, Mimsy didn't hesitate to launch into her tale of woe about the dreadfully mean house. She told Evan of the shifting floorboards, the dropping ceiling panels, the moving furniture, the awful smells, and the strange sounds. She told him of sleepless nights, of escalating injuries, and of fear. She told him all of this, barely pausing to breath, and he listened, nodding his head at times and looking apologetic at others. Mimsy thought she was falling in love again. She needed a guy who knew how to properly listen.

* * *

><p>Evan kept his arms stiffly at his sides, resisting the urge to cast a silencing charm, or a stunning spell, or worse. The customer simpered, whined, and never gave him the chance to get a word in edgewise to actually get the details he really needed. Finally, Evan had had enough.<p>

"Ms. Minster," he said.

"-and the fuchsia comforter was on the floor in a puddle-"

"Ms. Minster."

"-and my aunt had a cat like that once, but a cat is hardly a house and-"

"Ms. Minster!"

"Yes?" She looked startled, as though she had completely missed Evan saying her name the past two times. Evan felt the need for a strong drink and maybe something for the headache brewing behind his eyes.

"It's not that I don't appreciate how detail oriented you are, but I think I have enough information to at least start. Is it alright if I walk the perimeter of the house for now?"

"Oh certainly! I just have to show you my agapanthus! I got them all the way from Africa and they are just the most darling little things. They're the flower of love, you know." She batted her eyes tilted her head to the right.

Evan considered if the job was worth the reward, but damn it, his bank accounts were low. "Ms. Minster, I think it would be better if I went alone. This is delicate work, and I might miss something important if I were distracted."

"Of course! I've been told I can be quite the distraction sometimes. My mother always used to say that I drove her to distraction, but I'm sure she was just teasing me. I always-"

The woman was still chattering as Evan walked out the front door.

Evan slowly walked around the house, relishing in the silence while doing his job. He had his wand out, and every few steps, he stopped to send out a detection charm for foreign magical signatures and malicious magic. He kept his sense open, wary for any impulses or distortions in perception that could be caused by curses, hexes, or cursed objects. He made his way entirely around the house, finding nothing but a few surly garden gnomes. One of the little blighters had taken to following him around and making rude gestures. Evan cast a mild stinging hex at the gnome and walked back into the house, not nearly prepared enough for another storm of chatter. The floor boards shifted beneath his feet, and he heard shouting from in the other room, followed by a loud crack and a scream. Evan broke into a run.

Mimsy's voice was shrill and loud as she screamed. "You vile little creature! You awful beast! Get away from me! Get away!"

"You is not being Mistress. You is not being part of house and you is not being connected to master. You is being bad girl and you is not being Gingly's Mistress!"

Evan slid to a stop in the doorway of the parlor to see Mimsy being backed into a corner by a rather irate house elf. Its big, bat-like ears were erect and the long, twig-like fingers on one hand were outstretched towards Mimsy.

Mimsy saw Evan in the door way, and she let out another screech. "Get this disgusting bug away from me!"

"Ms. Minster, were you ever integrated into the wards of this house? Are you positive that you are the rightful owner of this place?"

The house elf answered for Mimsy. "She is not being rightful owner! Master was wanting house to be Master Neddy's. She is tricking Master into giving her house and Gingly."

"Don't talk with the ugly little thing! Get rid of it," yelled Mimsy.

"I think I know what the problem is Ms. Minster," said Evan, his amusement seeping into his voice. He was doing his best not to chuckle. "You're a muggle born, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything? I'm just as good a witch as anyone!"

"This house was in your deceased husband's family for generations. You said so earlier. After years of being exposed to magic both intentional and not, the house adopts a personality. It's not sentient, but it knows the family it belongs to and it knows who doesn't belong, and you, Ms. Minster, obviously don't belong. You were never integrated into the wards, and the house sees you as a foreign invader; a pest to get rid of. If you want peace, either leave the house, or get a member of your late husband's bloodline to put you into the wards."

"But it's my house! He left it to me! I gave him everything, and all I have left of him is this little house and that disgusting creature! Look at me! I need company, I need love, but no one sticks around, no one gives me what I need! I want my Danny boy!" Mimsy was sobbing now, her eyes turning red.

"Ms. Minster, I understand that you're upset, but the only way to get the house and the elf to accept you is to become part of the wards around the house. Is there anyone I can contact for you?"

Mimsy sniffled and rubbed the tears out of her eyes. "Yes. Danny, my husband, had a cousin, Ned. He could help me. C-can you get this creature away from me now?"

Evan looked down at the house elf, taking in it's dirty appearance and the determination in its large brown eyes. "Gingly, right?"

"I is being Gingly."

"Do you wish to serve Ms. Minster?" Evan squatted down on the floor so that he was almost level with the elf.

"Gingly is having to punish himself, but Gingly is not seeing her as Gingly's Mistress. Master never ordered it."

"If it is alright with Ms. Minster, would you like to come with me?"

"You would be being Gingly's new Master?" The elf's eyes were wide.

"Is that alright?"

"Gingly is being willing."

"Is that alright Ms. Minster?"

"As long as you get that horrible thing away from me, anything is fine. I just want things to be the way they used to be! I want my Danny back," Mimsy sniffled, her voice changing from whiney to heartbreakingly sad.

Evan thought he would never understand women.

"Ms. Minster," Evan said, "I need you to give a piece of clothing to Gingly, and I promise he will never bother you again. Do you need me to contact Ned for you?"

Mimsy shook her head and pulled the pink cardigan off her shoulders. She balled the cardigan up and tossed it at Gingly who snatched it out of the air. "So how do we go about changing the wards?"

A few hours later, Ned had come, Gingly had gone, and the wards had been set to accept Mimsy as the new owner of the house. They had settled on 50 galleons as the price, and Mimsy sent off a letter to Gringotts to send the payment directly to Evan's account.

When Evan left, Ned and Mimsy had been sitting in the parlor, sipping coffee. Mimsy had been talking a mile a minute, and Ned had a grimace on his face, his eyes followed Evan longingly as Evan excused himself.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was staring unblinkingly into large brown eyes, determined to not be the one who looked away first. The house elf had appeared with a crack earlier, and it froze in place when it noticed Severus.<p>

A few moments later, the sound of the floo flaring to life came from the other room, followed by the sound of Lilison cursing as he undoubtedly stumbled into the coffee table.

Lilison was still cursing as he made his way into the kitchen where Severus and the elf were having their stare down.

"I see you've met Gingly. He'll be living with us for a while. What would you like for dinner?"

Severus tore his eyes away from the elf's, and looked at Lilison with incredulity. "I was led to believe that you were going to do a job. Do you often get paid in servants?"

A smiled formed on Lilison's face. "This is a first for me, but I also got enough money to pay for a fair amount of potions ingredients. Did you make a list of what you need?

"I have nothing else to do with my time beyond writing and watching the grass grow. I did indeed manage to compile a list of the materials I need organized in order of necessity," Severus said, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a not-quite smile.

"I'll pick up the stuff tomorrow. Is chicken and rice all right for dinner?"

Severus nodded, and Lilison began to busy himself in the kitchen, pulling ingredients and pans from the cabinets.

"Gingly is wanting to know what Master wants Gingly to be doing," said the house elf, bringing attention to itself for the first time since Lilison had returned.

"Whatever you think needs doing is fine. I'll take care of dinner though."

"Gingly is being happy to be serving," it said, and with a crack, it disappeared.

Halfway through cooking, Lilison's movements halted. He stood rigidly for a few seconds, and Severus wondered briefly if the man had been hit by a body binding hex.

"Do you know why I haven't freed you?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I suppose it would be because you paid a hefty price for a slave. Or perhaps because, if you freed me, the Ministry would incarcerate me within the hour and you would be out 2,000 galleons and a slave. These are only speculations of course, and I am operating under the assumption that you aren't completely mad."

"That's a pretty big assumption to be making," Lilison joked, his voice lined with failing humor. "I would, you know, free you. I will…when I can. But I can't. Not yet. The Ministry would just sell you to another person or throw you in Azkaban, or kill you. But you are free. Not legally, maybe, but I'm not going to stop you. I just wanted to make sure that you knew. I'd free you if I could, but I can't. So you know…" Lilison's voice was halting and disjointed as he spoke.

All the same, Severus received the message, even if he didn't believe it. Lilison may consider him free, but that didn't change the law or the magic that bound him. It didn't change the fact that he had the dark mark on his arm, the fact that the person he cared the most about wanted him dead, the fact that the majority of the Wizarding World wanted him dead, or the fact that when one person released him, there would always be another waiting to destroy him.

However, Severus would allow Lilison to hold on to his foolish beliefs. He would not be the one to tell Lilison that there was no such thing as freedom. He would not be responsible for hardening the man who still followed a child's dreams. Instead, Severus simply said, "thank you, Harry," and he went upstairs.

* * *

><p>Evan sat down as the chicken slowly cooked on the stove top. It had been nearly half a year since anyone had called him by his real name. Hearing Snape call him Harry had brought back is memories of the past. He remembered the events of his past, and he remembered what could become the events of the future.<p>

Evan didn't want to go back. He didn't want to become Harry, to be the one with all of the responsibility. He enjoyed being a nobody, but the knowledge he had was slowly crushing him.

Voldemort would return, and no one knew. Dumbledore and several others probably suspected, but Evan was the only one who _knew_. He was also the only one who really knew how. Could he sit back and allow someone else to handle it, allow someone else to suffer?

No. He couldn't put someone else in the position he had been in for so long. He couldn't allow anyone to experience the crushing weight of that kind of responsibility, the expectations of thousands. He couldn't allow anyone to die because he was afraid to take action. Evan would once again become Harry, if only in his own mind, and he would hunt down the Horcruxes before Voldemort had the chance to regain his power. He would kill the snake before it had a chance to hatch.

In this universe, Harry Potter would be the one to rise again.

* * *

><p>No animal went into the cave. No plant grew within a ten meter radius. The area reeked of abomination. Anything that got near was filled with revulsion.<p>

Inside the cave lay an atrocity. It writhed and thrashed on the floor, letting out dreadful screams. It was a mass of scales and skin and feathers and fur, of bones and teeth and nails and claws. Its form changed constantly, shifting and bubbling from one appalling appearance to the next. The changes began to slow, and over the course of months, they stopped altogether. The monstrosity opened a pair of slit red eyes and let out a horrendous shriek. A clawed, feathered, scaled appendage reached out from the beast and landed upon a stick of yew.

A pulse of malicious intent and hatred flew out across the land, sending shivers down the necks of the sensitive and causing unease in the hearts of millions.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Just because it probably wasn't very clear, Severus is 21 years old and HarryEvan is 25.


End file.
